


The Lady and The Tramp

by Guntz



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Drabbles, Evie and Henry make sure of it, F/M, High Class Lady x Working Class Assassin, Jacob can be such a douche, Love/Hate, Romance, but he can be a gentleman sometimes, victorian london
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guntz/pseuds/Guntz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was a Lady, and he was just a Tramp that belonged on the other side of the tracks.</p><p>That didn't stop Jacob Frye from doing as he pleased when he crossed the rails, never mind the giant locomotive coming at him in worrisome speed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introductions of a Turbulent Lady and Dashing Tramp

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Tumblr for everything I do.

The hat from the top of my head flew off.

_'Oh, no!'_

I stared after the flying hat with growing horror until my body kicked itself into gear and quickly hurried after it. Of course, since I was in my best dress that I had on (for no reason whatsoever, I just thought it looked nice enough to bring about the color of my eyes), I could barely move my body enough to catch up to my matching piece. Finally, the wide-brimmed hat with floral pinned neatly to the side settled on the cobblestone road, and I let out a relieved sigh as I reached for it--

" _LOOK OUT_!"

Just as my gloved fingers brushed the top of my hat sitting on the dirty road, I looked to the side to see a carriage with galloping horses heading straight for me. Logically, I knew I should have shot up and dashed back to the pavement where it was mostly safe from being run over by careless drivers, but my body was frozen like a statue as I watched the four beasts come closer. Suddenly, I was tackled roughly to side where something heavy laid on top of me that it left me breathless. Immediately, I began to wave my hands wildly, my gloves slapping whatever was on top of me because I couldn't _bloody breathe_! The noise of the running carriage passed by, and no one was thankfully stomped to death by the horses and their lunatic driver...

"Are you insane?!" came a shout, but I totally ignored it in favor of trying to breath (and because my dress came with a very small corset).

"What are you callin' me crazy for?!" the source of the voice came from next to my head. I let out a gasp as air returned to me when the weight that trapped me on the ground thankfully pulled away.

And I was staring up at some hooligan that stared down at me with a sneer painted on his bristled lips. He picked himself up while easily lifting me with just a single arm around my shoulders to lift me off the streets. I was barely on my feet when the man who tackled me began to berate me.

"The hell were you bent over for—not that the view was bad, but you were standing there like some sittin' duck!"

His words made me nearly speechless. It's not my fault that I had frozen when I was--

"My hat!" I gasped, twirling away from the brutish man to find my missing piece of article was trampled beyond recognition. I bent over the torn thing, sad that such a lovely work of art was reduced to nothing but--

"Are you bloody _joking_!" came a shout. "You nearly got killed and all you're worried about is a stupid hat?!"

I shot back to my feet and threw the man, who was joined by a surprisingly dressed woman (though the scandalous tight pants she wore made me nearly gawk at her) and a dark-skinned man with lovely Persian patterns stitched to his attire, a smoldering glare. I was not going to bother addressing the man who looked like he belonged to one of the street gangs my family and friends warned me about. So, without a word, I turned my nose upward, my head held high, and I walked away from the small group (and the bystanders that watched).

Somehow, my silence must have instigated some sort of challenge because the man was clearly accepting it my following after my retreating form.

"What?" he scoffed as he caught up to me. "Cat gotcha tongue, Miss?"

"Let her be, brother!" someone called from behind, but they were ignored.

"I've nothing to say to you sir, goodbye." I tightly quipped out as I hurried my pace.

"You know," his voice, I suddenly noticed, sounded amused while losing its angered tone. "For a lady, you really lack manners."

This made me whirl around to face him, my sudden halt nearly making him crash into me from behind but stopped himself. Our chests were pressed together, and this indecent closeness would have made me pull away with embarrassment but I was too busy glaring holes.

"While I _could_ have been inclined to give you my thanks, your atrocious behavior had me second guess and therefore found no need for me to stay here and listen to your insults!" I spat at him, my neck slightly beginning to ache for looking up at the tall man, but I wanted to get my point across.

His brows flew up until they nearly disappeared 'neath his crooked top hat. A huff, followed by a biting laugh, escaped his mouth as he stared down at me.

"You could have _been inclined_   to thank me?!" he snorted. "More like you was goin' to go ahead and walk away without so much of a word of thanks even if I didn't say a peep outta my mouth!"

With a huff of my own, I began to turn away to escape obnoxious man, but my gloved hand was grabbed before released. I looked back to find a maroon leather glove flowing limply in the air from where the man was holding it up. I gasped as I stared down at my hand, now bare and exposed to the chilling air of September.

"Hm, don't suppose these are just as valuable to you as your hat, eh?" the man hummed, his expression giving a false scrutiny inspection over one of my favorite pair of gloves.

"Give that back now, you thief!" I shouted, my facade of acting as the proper woman that my mother instilled in me since girlhood thrown out the window. "How dare you?"

"I'll give it back," he said before throwing a condescending smirk down at me. "Right after you say the magic words, luv."

My pride howled with vengeance.

"Or I could call the police!" I snapped.

Again, he snorted as he casually swung my glove around (and out of my reach when I tried to swipe it out from between his thumb and forefinger).

"Police interferin' over a lil' glove?"

I hated to admit it, but the police wouldn't budge a finger for anything less than someone threatening harm or some purse-napping thief. This was quiet innocent in it's own way, so they really wouldn't bother with something so petty as a man stealing a woman's glove.

I glowered at the man, biting my lip.

"Thank you," I growled.

A wide stretch of his bristled lips dance across his face. "I'm sorry, luv. I didn't quite catch that, can you repeat?"

"I said, _THANK YOU_!" I shouted before plucking the glove from his hand (he actually didn't pull it away and allowed me to take what was mine), but I found my hand caught in a tight grip.

It was when I saw my tiny hand gripped around large, strong gloved fingers that fear settled into my system. This man was no gentleman that I could be exchanging pleasantries with; he looked the sort of person that belonged to a dangerous crowd from the lowly parts of London. I could actually see him lingering around darkened corners, back roads, and suspicious alleys. He would be surrounded by burly brutes, conniving thieves, and wicked harlots whilst they joined his swaggering gait to cause mayhem. I must have looked terrified when my hands were captured by his own strong fingers because the next thing I knew, the hand holding mine softened their grip until they were cupping them delicately.

Bristled lips brushed against my hand, my hand tingling from the sensation of his whiskers rubbing against my skin. I looked up from the action to find his dark hazel spheres looking intensely into my own that I was taken aback from the way they speared their way into me. His ridiculously dirty, crooked top hat of his was no longer situated on the top of his head, and I saw that his dark hair was brushed back.

For the first time, I was suddenly made aware of how incredibly handsome the questionable man was. I was actually shocked that I hadn't taken notice of this, but I suppose I had been too angry at his jabs that I couldn't stand to face him.

"Jacob Frye, luv," he murmured warmly against my hand, eyes still locked on my own. "Pleasure."


	2. Hello Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In depth of a Lady's world; some interesting news on the paper; and a stray Tramp in the rain.

"Sit up straight, Anita," came a sharp command followed by a slap against skin. "I will not tolerate slouching in this house!"

A quick intake of breath to bite back a snapping retort, I straightened my back and shoulders so not to get slapped on the wrists by Aunt Julia's leather gloves as she made a pass of my chair. I silently glowered after the older woman who ignored her own daughter's slouching (who was smugly grinning as her mother decided to turn a blind eye to her daughter's bad habits). I tossed my uncle Jordan a pleading look, the older man catching my eye then turning his attention to his second wife.

"Julia, dear, leave Ani alone now, it's been such a long day..." he began, but he was cut off.

"Jordan!" the red-head snapped at him like whiplash. "You spoil the girl too much! She is nineteen and still unmarried, what would everyone think when they see her still unbound by any suitors?!"

I never liked Aunt Julia. She was a perfectionist and sadistic woman hiding as an aristocratic widow looking for a new husband for her fatherless children.

Ever since my sweet uncle married her to bring a feminine figure to look after me and my young cousins after the sad passing of my parents and their mother, it's been nothing but a total terror for me and my two young cousins while uncle Jordan remained much oblivious. Todd and Maggie have been constantly bullied by their step-siblings, Alistair and Jackson, with having their toys broken or being accused of mischief that they had no part in. The worst of all was Aunt Julia's daughter: Myrtle. Hair just as red as her mother, she was angry and biting to everyone when her mother and step-father were not in the same room. I had half of my dresses "borrowed" and never returned, and when confronted about the issue, Aunt Julia berated _me_ for not sharing when Myrtle never so much as gave anything in return.

Aunt Julia was the devil incarnate, my little cousin Maggie once whispered to me. My poor baby cousin's hands were covered in welts from being whipped after every little, common mistake she made when it came to learning how to write. Maggie never liked being left alone with her step-mother, pleading to tears with her father. But uncle Jordan hadn't much choice considering he was constantly away when it came to work for the parliament. The former nannies and servants of the house were replaced by people who served more of the eyes and ears of Aunt Julia. If someone so much as caught me or my cousin doing something much to her dislike, it would be reported and we would suffer some form of punishment (whippings, no breakfast/lunch/dinner, locked inside our rooms, turning away friends/playmates, etc).

"Now, Julia," hope rose when uncle Jordan's tone turned to a stern force, making Aunt Julia halt from another one of her tirades of me becoming some spinster from my lack of association with the men she tried setting me with. "Enough is enough. The poor girl has done her chores and the work you've set her to, and she's been taking your lessons without complaint. The least you can do is leave her be!"

I couldn't stop the smile from spreading on my face when I saw the expression on Aunt Julia; she looked as though she had swallowed a frog whole.

"Ani," I whipped to attention, uncle Jordan jiggling in his pockets before procuring pennies and shillings before handing them to me. "Why don't you take the children to the bakery and get them some sweets."

He gave me a wink, ignoring the sputtering behind us, before waving me off towards the door.

"Off you go!"

"Thank you, uncle/da/father!" we all chorused, getting up from the table and gathering at the door to get our coats.

The younger ones were rambling about what sort of sweets they wanted to get from the bakery down the road while Myrtle retained a silent air of dignity by pretending to come along because it was a request. I could only roll my eyes at the younger red-headed girl before pulling open the door and leading the way our with the younger ones trailing behind me. Well, it was intended to start that way before Alistair taunted Todd to a race to the bakery, leaving the rest of us in the dust.

"Ugh," Myrtle sniffed with disdain as she watched Todd and Alistair run. "Pests."

I ignored her in favor of holding Maggie and Jackson's hands, both of them much too young to be chasing after the two boys, much to Jackson's disappointment. Finally reaching the bakery, we entered where the two boys were waiting for us. Well, Todd was waiting while Alistair was causing trouble for the people who were waiting for their baked goods. The eleven-year-old was forcing his way through the line, feeling he had more right to be in front than a bunch of beggars and low-class miscreants. I cringed as I watched the people giving him (and me, seeing as I was the adult amongst the children) dirty looks.

Quick to act, I grabbed Alistair by the back of his collared coat and yanked him away from the line before the people in line decided to revolt. I spotted a few beefy-looking men that looked ready to beat the tar out of Alistair, regardless that he was a child. Easing tensions somewhat, the people turned away as Alistair whipped furiously towards me. The lad was young, but head reached to my shoulders, and he was growing boy, so I had to stand my ground when his angry gaze was aimed for me.

"What did you do that for?!" he demanded. "I was going to get some treats!"

"No," I narrowed my eyes at him. "You were causing a ruckus and looking to embarrass yourself by acting like a little hooligan cutting into the line."

He furrowed his brows further, his face scrunching. "Mother said that we are the better paying customers of establishments, so we shouldn't be waiting behind a bunch of—"

I shushed him before he could complete that sentence. I could feel the other people looking our way, just _daring_ Alistair to finish what he was going to say.

"Well, your mother is very wrong to say such things." I told him before pulling him along forcefully to stand behind a family that looked about the middle-class. The mother hugged her children closer to her, her hands over their little ears for no doubt wanting to block away the nasty things Alistair was saying.

"I'm telling mother!" the boy snapped at me as he yanked his arm away from my hold.

"I really don't care." I snapped in return.

Looking over my shoulder, I spotted Todd, Jackson, and Maggie huddled with other children that were watching the bakers in the process of creating more sweets. All of them enraptured by the warm aroma that danced in the air, teasing the little ones and tempting them to buy it. A little way off, Myrtle was looking into the news stand, paying a penny to a scrawny newspaper boy as she snatched the paper from his hands. I looked closer at the cover in her hands, the bold prints standing out greatly than the other black prints.

_**DISCORD IN THE STREETS!** _

**_LONDON CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE!!!  
_ **

 " _ANI_!" I yelped when I felt my arm nearly pulled out of my socket from Alistair yanking on it. "Come on! The line is moving!"

"Alright, alright!" I pulled my arm back, following after the brat.

Thinking back to the newspaper, there was a picture printed below the headlines; there was a man in a dark trench coat with a crooked top hat leading a group. For some reason, that man drew an air of familiarity that I couldn't put my finger on. Perhaps I had seen him on another one of uncle Jordan's newspapers? Shaking the thoughts from my head, I kept my eyes trained on the desk in front when the beefy-looking workmen from the start of the line came past us, and my heart nearly raced when I felt one of their shoulders roughly brush against my own that I nearly staggered back.

Well, from Alistair mouthing off like that, could I really blame them?

After buying a bag full of sweets, we stepped outside, only to be met with the rain. The children and I wanted to make a run for back home, but Myrtle refused to budge from getting her shiny hair wet and tangled as a rats nest, and her clothes (some of which were mine, by the way) soaked.

"Lets just leave her here!" Jackson exclaimed. As much as I was tempted to, that idea was shot down when Myrtle threatened to have her mother punish us all for leaving her behind.

So we huddled under a shade. The carriages were mostly taken, and every time I waved an arm for one, I couldn't get the attention of a coachman. It was getting more and more cold with the wind whipping through the biting rain, the children bundling up to me seeking warmth. Myrtle was being stubborn, not wanting to lose any dignity in seeking warmth from us. I would not be surprised if she got a cold from this later on. Getting desperate, I pulled myself away and entered the rain to get _someone's_ attention!

"EXCUSE ME!" I shouted to a coachman.

But like the rest, they didn't hear nor see me. I swore I was going to cry, becoming more and more frustrated with the cold, rain, and irritation of my cousin Myrtle.

"What's wrong, luv? Lose your hat again?"

Startled, I looked up from beside me to find a familiar stranger: Jacob Frye.

"What are you doing here?!" I demanded, too shocked of seeing him to think of anything else to say.

He raised a scarred brow at me. "Am I now not allowed to walk these streets like a free man?"

I closed my eyes, huffing in exasperation and turning away from him. "Please, go away."

Whatever he was going to say, he paused when he noticed my eyes trained on something... or someone. Several someones. A small group of children stood under cover of the downpour, all of them well-dressed but ill-prepared for the showers overhead. Putting the pieces together, he scanned the streets before spotting what he was looking for. Putting two fingers to his lips, he released a loud, shrilling whistle that made me jump. The coachman from ahead shot up, looking around before spotting Jacob waving an arm.

I watched with a gaping mouth as the coach came closer until the horses parked the carriage alongside the street. I was silent as Jacob opened the door, gesturing for the little ones to hurry inside while they made a quick dash for it. Myrtle, ever taking her time (despite having made a fuss of not wanting to get wet), eyed Jacob curiously with her bright, cyan-colored eyes before giving him a sly smile as she entered a carriage. A gloved hand was raised to my face, a gesture that was so... gentlemanly of him. After our first introduction (if one could call it that), I was sure I would never see him again. But here he stood, helping me get the little ones and Myrtle out of the rain.

Speechless, I climbed the carriage with Jacob's help, but the hand that helped me up did not release me immediately. Warm, bristled lips brushed against the back of my hand, and those smoldering eyes trained solely on me. Once again, I was reminded what a handsome fellow he was, but his attitude and arrogance needed to be checked before—

I tugged my hand back and slapped the door closed on his face, shouting for the driver to take us to our home address. I dared not look back out the window where I could just feel that scoundrel's eyes burning into me. Instead, I found Myrtle glaring viciously with her beautiful face morphed into something insidious.


End file.
